


A Terrible Thing To Lose

by orchidlocked



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bittersweet, Cardassian Culture, Exes, M/M, Other, Post-Canon Cardassia, gay culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28344462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidlocked/pseuds/orchidlocked
Summary: Post-canon Cardassia, Garak meets with Parmak, who still knows him well enough to offer some decent advice.
Relationships: Elim Garak/Kelas Parmak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 16
Kudos: 46





	A Terrible Thing To Lose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NB_Cecil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NB_Cecil/gifts).



> A bit bittersweet but also gay culture. lol. Just feeling inspired these days.

Elim Garak hadn’t seen Kelas Parmak in years, and was surprised to receive an invitation from the doctor to join him for a te’imú [reunion, catch-up]. In other times, he might have dallied a bit in his response, but the sorrow that roamed Cardassia weighed heavily on him, and he saw no need to add to Parmak’s.  
  
Garak was back in the Imperial District; what was left of it, anyways. Parmak’s flat was closer to the former site of Central Command. His block was in better shape, so Garak broke out a dress jacket still wrapped in plastic and popped a few cuttings from his Denobulan air flower into his pocket as a gift. Parmak had always been good with plants.  
  
Garak made his way to Parmak’s flat on the top floor, and was happy to see a small, if hidden, smile grace his face upon receipt of the cuttings.  
  
“Makela [welcome],” Parmak gestured to the modest but well-furnished patio, and Garak followed him outside, where a bottle of kanar and two glasses waited on a tiny round table flanked by two traditional Hebetian socializing stools.  
  
“It is good to see you,” Parmak said in flawless Federation Standard as he poured the kanar into chipped glasses.  
  
“I wasn’t aware you spoke Federaji.”  
  
“I find the fuan’sor [wind-tongue, Kardasi] too familiar.”  
  
“Fair.” Garak lifted his glass, as did Parmak, and they sat in silence for a moment, each pretending the kanar wasn’t long past its prime and that their planet hadn’t just been bombarded beyond recognition. Cardassians didn’t really do small talk, but their conversations remained surface-level. At least, until the sad, bitter bottle of kanar was finally empty.  
  
“When will the sandals of your Doctor land upon the home world?”  
  
Garak blinked, and Parmak relished the rare, slightly sadistic thrill he got from watching shock bloom upon his face. “I would hardly call a simple Federation CMO my-"  
  
Parmak cut Garak off with a burbling giggle and his hand held up. “It’s painfully plain. You love him, as once you loved me.” Garak stood and slapped Parmak on the thigh, hard enough to cause the doctor to jump. “For the sake of honor and loyalty, Elim, are you considering a return to your former career?”  
  
“As once I loved you.” Garak had his back to Parmak as he stared out over the few working lights of Kardasi’Or. He chuckled in that familiar, sardonic way of his, and for a moment, Parmak thought he was about to say something that would render the remainder of his stale kanar to be flung in the former interrogator’s face as an appropriate response. However, when Garak turned to face him, his expression was soft, as if illuminated by the old crystal lamps that used to be so common in Kardasi homes, like the one they once shared.  
  
“[You are aware our tongue recognizes no ending tense for this,]” Garak said, switching back to their shared native Kardasi. “[As if you do not inside me still reside.]”  
  
Parmak hummed amusedly. “[I find myself willing to take the enormous risk of being _honest_ with you. Either you have transformed like the leaf eater into the flower sipper, or I have already swallowed the hook.]”  
  
At that, Garak finally laughed, the constructed veil Parmak knew well dropped, and he saw the man beneath, the complex, maddening, passionate, enigmatic man whose love still resided inside the gates of his garden. “[I fear the love is more a sprout. Not as alive as an established tree,]” he said quietly.  
  
“[A sprout is a living thing, no matter how small.]”  
  
“[Even the tiniest of sprouts? As in those that may be washed away if watered too harshly, or looked at in the wrong way?]”  
  
“[Yes. As it remains alive, well.]” Parmak shrugged.  
  
“[Well?”]  
  
“[Then surely it would be a terrible thing to lose,]” Parmak said, amused. He reached for Garak’s hand, and cupped it in between his palms, carefully laid his index and fourth fingers across the back of Garak’s in an ancient gesture performed between those whose betrothals had been called off. Parmak wasn’t aware that Garak’s face could turn softer still.  
  
“[Kelas, you owe me not such tenderness.]”  
  
A playful expression rippled over Parmak’s ridges. “[Yes, how wise you remain after all these years! Is it not lovely when we agree?]” he asked before bursting into laughter.  
  
Garak rolled his eyes and gathered Parmak into a warm embrace.  
  
“In all seriousness, Cardassia desperately needs medical assistance,” Parmak said in Federaji while stroking his hand down the length of Garak’s back. “Whenever your tahksisaný [beloved] arrives, send him directly to me. We all know Cardassian physiology is difficult for outsiders to master.”  
  
When Garak pulled back suddenly, Parmak laughed again.  
  
“Worry not. Even if I desired to reveal even one of your secrets, I am unable. They number the night sky as do the stars. Every day, Elim wears a different face.”  
  
Before Garak could respond, the city was plunged into darkness; an evening curfew was in effect to conserve what precious energy remained on Prime.  
  
Garak reached into his pocket for the portable glow lamps the acting Civil Service had been passing out. “I did not realize the time. Best to set a good example for the citizenry with regard to the curfew.”  
  
“Your uekimpa [firefly] will safely guide you home, I trust. Until we speak again.” Parmak held up his palm, and Garak returned the gesture, pressing his palm briefly to Parmak’s before carefully making his way down the stairwell and out onto the dark streets of Kardasi’Or, where the numerous stars in the night sky were clearly visible.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working off of the NoxZiConsortium's Syansi dictionary and using some words from there as well as creating some!
> 
> Te = returning, repeating + imú = unite // te’imú = reunite, reunion
> 
> fuan'sor = wind + tongue. I have a headcanon that Kardasi is a wind tongue and sometimes referred to colloquially as such. more in my next fic that's incoming. :)


End file.
